Holly Potter: Book One
by SasaskiHana
Summary: Being reborn into Harry Potter is hard enough, can someone tell me why I'm a female knock off of the protagonist?
1. Chapter 1

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground.

The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.  
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."  
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun.

She looked distinctly ruffled."How did you know it was me?" she asked. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."  
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.  
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."  
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."  
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"  
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"  
"A what?"  
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"  
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"  
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.  
"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."  
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."  
"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them." Said Dumbledore.

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"  
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.  
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. " Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.  
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Holly. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Holly Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone.  
Dumbledore nodded glumly. "It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Holly survive?"  
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."  
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"  
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"  
"I've come to bring Holly to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."  
"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Holly Potter come and live here!"  
"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."  
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Holly Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Holly - every child in our world will know her name!"  
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"  
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Holly underneath it.  
"Hagrid's bringing her."  
"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"  
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.  
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"  
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.  
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.  
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"  
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir."  
"No problems, were there?"  
"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."  
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of dark red curls over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.  
"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.  
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."  
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"  
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."  
Dumbledore took Holly in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.  
"Could I - could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Holly and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.  
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"  
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Holly off ter live with Muggles -"  
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Holly gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Holly's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.  
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."  
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."  
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.  
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.  
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.  
"Good luck, Holly," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.  
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Holly Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley... She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Holly Potter - the girl who lived!"

Oh how wrong they to make that assumption.

* * *

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their neice on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another girl lived in the house, too.

Holly, however, was not under the stairs this time around, however.

Holly Potter asleep at the moment, but not for long. Her Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.  
"Up! Get up! Now!" Holly woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again. "Up!" she screeched.

Holly rolled onto her back, and let out a long sigh. It had been hard, black mailing and using threats of ruining their family and reputation but she did get a room. An actual room. It was the smallest, of course, but it was a room none the less.  
Her aunt was back outside the door. "Are you up yet?" she demanded.  
"Nearly," Holly replied. "Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday." Holly sighed, shifting slightly and sitting up.  
Dudley's birthday - that meant the plot was starting. Holly got slowly out of bed and started getting dressed, deciding on the nicest thing she owned out of the seven outfits she'd been allowed to have, making the argument that if she wore the same thing every day, she would look poor, so they would look poor, and that wouldn't do.  
When she was dressed she went downstairs into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Holly, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise - unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley had tried to make Holly her punching bag at one point, until she tried to bite him, telling him if she touched him she would infect him with her weirdness and he would have to become her minion of evil.  
The girl had brushed her hair, tying it back with a ribbon she'd gotten from a friend, it was green, reminding her of Slytherin. She didn't care.

Holly was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Holly thought differently.  
Holly put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell. "Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."  
"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Holly, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down her bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.  
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right'' Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."  
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia. "Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."  
Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.  
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Holly and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.  
"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take her." She jerked her head in Holly's direction.  
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, Holly sighed, once again. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Holly was left behind with Mrs. Figg. Holly quite liked it there, no abusive fat assholes.  
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Holly as though she'd planned this, in response the girl simply blinked, holding back a grin as she realized that she would soon be leaving this hell hole. _Of to Hogwarts!_ She thought joyfully.  
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. "Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the the girl."  
The Dursleys often spoke about Holly like this, as though she wasn't there - or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn't understand them. Holly found this amusing, and annoying at times. "What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"  
"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia. "You could just leave me here," Holly chirped. Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled. "I won't blow up the house," said Holly, folding her arms and giving them a shit eating grin as she relished their misery. "I suppose we could take her to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave her in the car..."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried - but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. "Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let her spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.  
"I... don't... want... her... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "She always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Holly a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms. Holly looked at her nails, mouthing 'please' at the brat.  
Just then, the doorbell rang - "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically - and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them.

Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Holly, who was wearing one of her famous shit eating grins, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with her, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Holly aside.  
"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Holly's, who cringed. "I'm warning you now, girl - any funny business, anything at all -"  
"I won't do anything, Vernon, so long as you don't antagonize me further." Holly spoke, her tone dripping with venom. She leaned in. "After all, we wouldn't want anything... horrible, to happen to your precious little boy, no?" Vernon's face contorted in rage, and Holly quickly held up a finger. "I will use magic if you so much as touch me, and I will make it very, very public." Vernon backed down, huffing like a walrus and shooting her a glare.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Holly, the council, Holly, the bank, and Holly were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.  
"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them. "

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Holly what she wanted before they could hurry her away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop.

It wasn't bad, either, Holly thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.  
Holly had the best morning she'd had in a long time. She was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one. .  
After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can - but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.  
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. "Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. "Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. "This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.  
Holly moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.  
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.  
It winked. Holly winked.  
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Holly a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time."  
"I know," Holly murmured through the glass."It must be really annoying." The snake nodded vigorously. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Holly asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass.  
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?" The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Holly read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - so you've never been to Brazil?" As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.  
"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Holly in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Holly fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.  
Holly sat up, lightly dusting herself off and smirked. The glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.  
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Holly could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo." The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?" The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Holly had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Holly at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Holly was talking to it, weren't you, Holly?"  
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Holly. He was so angry he could hardly speak. Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.  
Holly sat in her room, looking out of the small window at the sky. She was hoping her letter would arrive soon. She wasn't sure how long she would last before she snapped and killed these assholes. Only reason she hadn't so far was because they held somewhat of a use, a means of protection against Voldemort.

At least until she collected his Horcruxes and blackmailing him after his return.

* * *

Holly was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.

When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Holly, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Holly who looked at him boredly. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Holly. "I'd much rather be practicing for the final battle." Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what she'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Holly at Mrs. Figg's. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Holly watch television and gave her a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters.

They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Holly openly grinned.

Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.  
They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. "Make Holly get it."  
"Get the mail, Holly."

Holly smirked and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Holly.  
Holly picked it up, placing the letter in pocket before taking the rest of the mail to the Kitchen, placing it on the counter before going upstairs.

Opening the letter upstairs, she looked through the contents, before quickly making a copy of it, taking the actual letter downstairs when dinner time came.

"I got my letter." She spoke, causing Petunia to freeze and Vernon to look over at her looking confused. Dudley scoffed. "Lair. You have no friends."

"But I do have enemies." Holly retorted, before looking over at Petunia. "I will be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and no, you can't tell me I can't, you have no right. I've already contacted them and told them I would be going. Tomorrow I will be off to go shopping, and no, I've no need of your money, money will be provided." She said, watching the reactions as Vernon grew angrier and angrier. Petunia kept flinching at the mention of witchcraft.

"I am a witch, and I will be going to Hogwarts." She left before they could protest.

* * *

**This will be the only chapter that truly copies the book and updates will be slow, just a warning for now. **


	2. Chapter 2

Holly walked into the Leaky Cauldron almost immediately gaining the attention of everyone there, as her scar was on clear display.

"Holly Potter…" The whispers spread and she simply stated aloud, wanting to get down to business. "Excuse me but can anybody please show me how to get to Diagon ally? I'm shopping for first year you see and I'm afraid I've never been to the place before."

Almost instantly every wizard was eager to show her the way, insisting she was accompanying through the to the place, seeing how she was just a child.

"How about you then?" She pointed at Quirrel. Quirrel blinked and stared at the girl. "S-s-sorry?"

"You can be my guide, you are going to be a teacher at Hogwarts, are you not?" She questioned. Quirrel stared at her, no doubt trying to figure out how she knew this, but Holly didn't care.

"Come on, let's go then!" She smiled and dragged him through the streets, walking straight into the bank to deal with the Goblins.

Certainly, a task on it's own, thankfully she had already requested her key send to her via Owl, so she was able to retrieve her things. She wondered where Hagrid was, but didn't think much on it. She kept her eyes on Quirrel, keeping him at her side throughout the entire exchange, asking him every question she could possibly think of. She soldiered through his stuttering until she finally reached the wand shop, insisting he accompany her inside.

Olivander's exchange, well, it was practically identical to the books, except for the glances he gave Quirrel before she snatched the future Professor's hand and walked out the door, dragging him with her to the nearest inn and then talking to him for an additional four hours until it was dark outside.

The poor bastard finally made an excuse and left, talking about some business. He didn't stutter when he left.

Tactfully, the following days consisted of Hermione levels of studying, she absorbed the knowledge like a sponge. She even went out and purchased an advanced level of spells for later, once she mastered the basics though at this point by Hogwarts she might be competing with Hermione for the smartest witch of her year. Although Holly sort of cheated, she had a past life that gave Holly her maturity and cleverness.

Then the day finally arrived, and Holly was off to Hogwarts… and she delivered a letter. To Quirrel, saying that she was sorry for irritating him all day long and stopping him from whatever task he was doing, and that she wishes him a happy school year.

She suspected this would have Voldemort seething in anger, that she had once again gotten in his way. Well, the damn nose less bastard better get fucking used to it, he took away her chance of a peaceful life, she will rip away his power, piece by piece.

She was even on her way to obtaining one while she stayed in at the Inn. She remembered where exactly the ring was, though she wasn't going after it now.

That would be her summer job, after all, Dobby was going to annoy the living shit out of her when the time came, and she wouldn't be getting any mail regardless.

No, while she was at Hogwarts, she would collect the one there, and maybe even visit the chamber of secrets and say hi to the snake, befriend it, it's got to be lonely.

It's also likely she would want to find the cup, which she wasn't sure where it was… then there was the locket. Maybe she could grab that one during the summer to.

She made plans, oh yes, she planned and plotted. She would be working on stopping Voldemort and confronting him. She wouldn't be heartless, she would cruel.

She was going to tell him something Harry never did.

That she was a Horcrux.

She wouldn't say anything until later, though, it would something to keep hidden until her life was on the line, that way, the mission would become capture, not kill her. She might even tell him in the Graveyard, or, perhaps she should send him a letter after he's officially back, send it to the Malfoy Manner, since she knows that's where he'll be staying a lot.

She would prefer to see the look on his face though. It would be priceless; she was sure of it. She knew that telling was most definitely not the best idea, however, if she put on a Hermione level of focus and determination then she could very well prove herself to be powerful enough to actually take him on.

Yes…. She wouldn't tell him until after she was strong enough to take him on- she might even find a way to tap into the power he gave her- beyond the obvious, that is, the mind connection and the snake speak.

Holly was excited and terrified of what was to come. Of what she would face and of what she knew she would become.

She would also show Albus Dumbledore why it was a very bad idea to leave a child in hell for ten years. Oh, yes, she would send that message loud and clear.

Voldemort was not the only one you should fear.

* * *

**Sorry that this chapter was so short, it's more of time passes type of chapter more than anything. I won't be quite making the word count the 5,000+ like before but I'll try to go between 1,000 to 2,000 chapters if I can when I can. Time passing chapters will serve to be shorter, like this one. **


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